Moonlight in a Corn Field
by Bite-the-PoisionApples
Summary: What happens when a Hogwarts professor, who is known for little more then a sniveling sneer, comes back to school with a little something extra? A little something no one expected...like a neice. Well, we're about the find out. R
1. Chapter 1

Moonlight in a Corn Field

Chapter: 1

Family Reunion

Summary: What happens when a well-known Hogwarts' professor comes back to start the new school with more then just a sour puss? Well we're about to find out.

Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own any of it's characters or actors..._not that I haven't tried_. As a result of my non-ownership of the above iteams that therefore should give a good indication of my lack of indentification as Mrs. J.K. Rowling. If for some reason you insist on believing that I am indeed Mrs. Rowling, then you should be beaten then maimed with wooden paddle..._repeatedly._ Thank you and drive home safetly.

* * *

Have you ever wondered how in one moment you could have everything and then in the next it be taken away from you in one devilish swipe? If not, you should. It happens all the time. Every minute of every day, something prescious is being taken away from someone. Most often from those who are the least suspecting and the least capable of coping with the loss. What is this lost, you may wonder? Well, sometimes it's something small and easy to replace, other times it may be large and hard to recongure, and then there are those things that are so astronomincally important that the loss of them is earth shattering. Often those types of things happen to be parents, memories, and happy child-hoods---things hard to remember cleary and yet impossible to forget once you've gotten a taste of their sickeningly sweet poinson.

The sky was dark. Darker then the blackest kettle that had ever been placed upon the table of the damned. The hollow canvas that was the atmosphere was sprinkled with the magnetic hues of butter and gold. They lite up the shadowy world beneath them, as though they were some gift sent from the heavens as a sign of good will to come.

She, however, could not feel the good will, nor the stars and moon that were buttered with gold. She could only feel the cold and the wind rushing past her porcelin skin. It ran past her body quickly and furiously, ruffling the blades of emerald green grass that surrounded her. They brushed against her legs, sending shivers up her shine. She picked up her ankle and rubbed it against the back of her calf in an attempt to send the goosebumps away. When it lead to no avail she slowly reached her hand up to her shoulder and delicately placed the pink sweater she was wearing back on to her shoulder properly.

She turned, looking back at the structure behind her, and took a deep breath in. The moment she released the breath was the same moment her stomach began to churn. She reluctantly picked up her left foot that was pinkened from the chill of the outdoors and slowly placed it in front of her. Her right foot came next and then her left foot once more. Before she knew it, she was walking back to the house from whence she came. She wasn't moving quickly or even steadily for that matter, but slowly and surely she _was_ moving and that was anyone could ask for.

As she meandered slowly through the tall and bushy grass that was the Scotland corn field, she could see the little house far more clearly then she could before she started to walk towards it. With the golden moon and buttered stars, that were sending a wonderous glow upon the massive field, behind her, she continued her journey back to the house filled with the sweet, soft music and family wandering around the establishment.

The closer she became, the more easily she could make out the unique persons inside the dwelling. She could distinguish the variations of their bleak and doomy cloaks, dresses, and suits. 'Why do people always wear black at a funeral? It's such a gloomy color.' she thought to herself.

She had almost reached her intended destination, the back porch of the house, in peace, when she heard a sobbing voice calling out to her from the veranda.

"Piper!" the voice called between sobs and sniffles.

The girl looked to see her great-aunt Magna, an old woman with gray hair, streaked with white wisdom, waving her over with her old, musty handkercheif. Piper picked up her pace, though it was hard with the wind and cold working against her, and hurried over to her great-aunt.

She reached the porch only to have her wrist taken hostage by great-aunt. The woman grabbed her wrist and tugged at it until the girl thought it might of been popped outof it's socket. Piper was unwillfully thrusted into aunt Magna's bussom in a more then hearty hug.

"Where have you been?" the elderly woman asked eagerly as she swayed the squished and squirming girl in her arms. "We've been looking all over the house for you dear, only to find that you were out in that bloody corn field again." she added.

"Oooh..Sorfy fant Mgrafa." Piper spitted out as best she whilst being held tightly to her aunts large, suffocating bussom. Magna pulled the girl back and held her in front of her frame, while letting tears fall from her red, puffy eyes. They moistioned the woman's black wool coat as they fell upon it. She looked disshevield. Possibly even more disshevield then the odd fury hat that was falling off of her triangular head.

Piper politely gestured a condoling look over to the old woman and left her to herself. She had almost made it into the house when she looked back only to see aunt Magna's knees go out and great-great-uncle Bertie catch her, then great-uncle Preston be forced to catch them both as great-great-uncle Betie was nearly a hundred years old and no match for great-aunt Magna's 250 lbs. frame.

While the residing people on the porch were tending to the three old relatives, Piper snuck into the house before anymore elderly relatives could come and squash her into their bussoms' and prod her with their musty hankerchiefs'.

She guided her way through the living room, being careful not to make any direct eye-contact with the dozens of elderly, sobbing, or otherwise irritable realitives that occupied the house. When Piper had finally sifted through all of the realitives and family friends that had come to pay their last respects to the newly deceased, she somehow found herself in the kitchen.

She sat down in an empty seat and picked at the plate of shepards pie that someone had placed before her. She hadn't been proding at the plate, of what now looked like sludge, for long when she felt something start touching her hair. Well, that something actually turned out to be a someone, more specifically her grandmother, Rolinea.

"Hey Dolly." the woman said sweetly.

"Hi." Piper replied softly.

"How are you holding up in the midst of all this?" Rolinea asked her grand-daughter quietly and yet still with all of the care and concern a grandmother could have for her grandchildren.

"I don't know. Fine, I suppose." she retorted quickly while shrugging her shoulders.

"Listen, I know-" Rolinea started, but was cut off.

"Nan. Can we not do this?" pleaded the girl.

Rolinea just looked down at her grand-daugter. Her hair was still rapped around her finger. She let it go and watch as it spunned down and met the girls shoulder as gracefully as the angels from heaven coming down to visit Mary and the baby Jesus.

"Sure, darling." Rolinea replied. "I justed wanted to let you know that your parents were wonderful people, very honorable and that you made them pro-" she began to add in w hisper in Piper's ear when she was again cut off.

"Nan. Can we not do this, _please_? Piper asked hotly.

She stood up from her chair quicklly, muttered a quick "Good night." and flew out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom like a bat in the night. From that point on no one asked Piper Nickles about her parents. Everyone pretty much knew that doing so would only result in them being hexed into next week.

Piper didn't sleep that night. She couldn't. There were too many thoughts, and feelings, and bies of shepard's pie that were circulating in her system. It must of been about midnight when she snuck out of her grandmother's house and ran back into the corn field in which she was in earlier that night. It was cold, but she didn't care. She didn't care about the furious winds that rushed past her, wipping her hair like wings on a butterfly. Nor was she concerned with the goosebumps that were slowly and continuously working their way up her spine. All she cared about was the moon and stars, as they were the only things that listen without response and spoke without words. They were the only things that were buttered gold and sprinkled glorious. Moonlight in a corn field...'It doesn't get much better then this." she thought.

* * *

So what did ya think? Was it good, bad, fantastic, worthy of a paddle to the head? I wrote it and so I naturally think it's cooler then Jesus, but that's just me. It would be amazinng to have some imput from all of you. This, _in case you were wondering_, is a polite way of me asking you to review. Soooo please review! I promise it won't go unnoticed.

Next Chapter: o gewstr aw go hotf fo


	2. Drop the Tea, Skippy

Moonlight in a Corn Field

Chapter: 2

Drop the Tea, Skippy

Summary: What happens when a well-known Hogwarts' professor comes back to start the new school with more then just a sour puss? Well we're about to find out.

Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own any of it's characters or actors..._not that I haven't tried_. As a result of my non-ownership of the above iteams that therefore should give a good indication of my lack of indentification as Mrs. J.K. Rowling. If for some reason you insist on believing that I am indeed Mrs. Rowling, then you should be beaten then maimed with wooden paddle..._repeatedly._ Thank you and drive home safetly.

* * *

Have you ever wondered why sooner or later you have to realise what you've lost and move on? If not, you should. At some point, usually in the midst of our deepest despair, life seems to thrust us into it's tail-spin of movement. No matter how hard we try to resist the light and no matter how desperately we pray to the heavens to let us continue to hold onto our darkness, life won't let us. It wants us to live and to move forword, even in the times when we don't wish the same upon ourselves. We like the dark, don't we? We like staying in the shadows as a means of hiding from the light. In times likes these the monsters under our beds seem to be as meak as lillies in the breeze, while the prospect of closure is more frightening then the Grime Reeper, himself, stopping at your front foor in preperation of coming to take you for tea.

The sky was pale. Pale as though a hearty rain storm had just finished stretching itself out beyond the border of it's clouds. The pallid hues of blue and pink had replaced the golden butter that had spread itself upon the atmosphere the night before. They twisted in the sky for what seemed like an eternity until settling down for a wonderous slumber. The wind and cold had died down to a mild chill, though the two forces still enforced the emerald blades of grass and made it quiver down to their roots, in addition to the already shaking trees and flowers.

She lay there amidst a depth of absolute silence. She was totally and completely unaware of the quivering world around her. Piper was just spread upon the ground as though she was a bit of butter being drawn across a peice of toast. The blades of grass seemed to lean over and say "hello" to the girl in a manner that caused them to tip and tickle her nose and cheeks. She unconsciously scrunched her face instinctively as to banish the evil meadow that was intruding upon her pale flesh.

Piper was lost in a sea of oblivious dreams until all of a sudden she was awaken from her slumber by an unwelcome thump to the head. She arised readily and leaned back upon her porceline elbows in confusion. Holding her head with her slender fingers she looked up in an effort to catch a glimpse of the creature who had whacked her, but instead only caught a peek at the newly risen sun. Piper quickly turned her head and squinted her hazel eyes as the sun shone into them feverishly.

"Morning." a deep male voice said.

She looked up quickly in startlement, though that feeling didn't last long. Once she noticed who it was who had thumped her on the side of the head, she was no longer surprise at either the indivigual or the action. Looking down at her was someone she knew quite well, though not exactly the person she would of prefered to see on an early September morning.

"Morning." Piper replied as she yawned.

Her eyes scanned over the man and came to finally rest on a steaming mug that was seized in this hand. She gave herself a moment to think and asses the situation, but in the midst of her rationalizing she heaved those thoughts out of her mind-frame and grabbed the mug from out of the man's hand. He raised his dark, bushy eyebrow and muttered a sarcastic "That _was_ mine." and sat down next to the girl.

"Not anymore." she responded with a playful smirk.

"Very funny, now give it back." he requested whilst reaching for the cup within the hands of the girl. She shifted her shoulder away from him and countered with a simple "Nope."

"_Piper_." he said in a warning tone.

"_Severus_." she warned back.

"Piper give me back my tea or-" he began, but was cut off.

"Or what? You'll hex me? Turn me into a toad? Go ahead...see is I give a fiddly." she mocked.

He looked at her. His hollow eyes bored into her head. She looked back, rolled her eyes, and handed the cup back over to the man.

"Here." she said dismissingly "_It was bad tea any way_." she additionally muttered.

He looked back over at the girl and scanned her feautres. He took note of her irritated experssion and pulled out his wand. He congured up another cup of tea and handed it over to the girl. She looked at him.

"I could of done that myself, Severus." she noted.

"First of all...It's _uncle_ Severus. Second of all...you know you're not supposed to do magic outside of school." he replied before taking a sip of tea.

"What's the difference? I'll be on the train later today and I'll be arriving at school by nightfall." Piper responded.

"The difference may only be hours, Piper, but they do make a difference." Severus reasoned

"Sure..Just like it makes a difference whether you give Nan Butter Beer or Fire Whisky." Piper scoffed.

Snape couldn't help but snort when he heard this. The fact of the matter was that it really_ didn't _matter whether you gave old Rolinea Butter Beer or Fire Whisky. She always seemed to become tipsy on either one. Only the Lord knows how many times good, old Nan ended up jiving on a table to some old wizard song.

"No. No, I suppose not. Though until you do get on the train, don't be playing around with that wand. Don't be foolish, Piper." he warned.

"And _this_ is coming from a man who was reguarly hung from his shoes during his school days, _right_." Piper mocked.

"Don't start with me." he countered hotly.

"Fine. Whatever." she replied as she got up from her place on the deep, emerald grass. "I'm going to go get ready abd gather my trunks." she added as she walked away from her uncle, towards the house in which she had snuck out of the night prior.

* * *

So what did ya think? Was it good, bad, fantastic, worthy of a paddle to the head? I wrote it and so I naturally think it's cooler then Jesus, but that's just me. It would be amazing to have some imput from all of you. This, _in case you were wondering_, is a polite way of me asking you to review. Soooo please review! I promise it won't go unnoticed.

Next Chapter?n ufsd ne irft 'enr a


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